Empty Promises
by Cocomango
Summary: We said it was forever. We sealed it with a kiss. TR, One-shot


****

****

**Empty Promises**

I saw him at the beach  
  
He was facing the sunset, a palette in his hands.  
  
I was curious and walked closer.  
  
He looked familiar. The wind blew on his blond hair.  
  
He turned, and our eyes held,

He stared at me intensely, as if trying to dig into the recesses of his mind for a memory that was long forgotten.  
  
His face broke into a smile. "Hello, Mary," he greeted, in a tone that was more teasing than mocking.

-- 

We got reacquainted and made an effort to know each other better.  
  
"I'm going to Yale," I said.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to go to Harvard. What happened?"  
  
"I weighed the pros and the cons, and Yale won. Besides, it was closer to home. What about you?"  
  
"Stanford."  
  
I was surprised. "Why Stanford?"  
  
He shrugged. "So I could be more independent."  
  
"Didn't they teach you that at boot camp?"  
  
"Yes, but I wanted to prove to my parents that they could trust me without a drill sergeant."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Actually, I was planning on transferring to Yale. It'll be closer to home and to my family."  
  
I smiled, understanding perfectly.

--

He asked me on a date.  
  
Looking at me, he said, "Would you like to go out with me?"  
  
I was surprised. "You mean like a date?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm asking you out on a date."  
  
I stared at him, astonished. This was a different Tristan. He was asking instead of demanding.  
  
I liked this new side of him.  
  
"So, are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to give me an answer?" He paused. "Or maybe that was a 'no'."  
  
I shook my head. I gave him a shy smile. "Yes."  
  
"Yes what? Yes, your answer's no, or yes, you're accepting my invitation?"  
  
"Yes, I'm accepting your invitation."  
  
He gave me a smirk. "Knew you couldn't resist me."  
  
One date lead to another and another and another…

--

We shared kisses.  
  
Short, sweet kisses, just the brief touching of our lips, like raindrops on a warm day.  
  
Long, lazy kisses that made me think of summer and lemonade.  
  
Passionate kisses that made me hot all over, my breath coming in short gasps.  
  
Bone-meltingly slow kisses, always leaving me clinging to him, never wanting to let go. 

--

We danced under the stars.  
  
We were sitting by the shore, the breeze grazing our skin.  
  
"Would you like to dance?" he asked suddenly.  
  
I looked at him, bewildered. "But there's no music."  
  
He smiled. "Does it really matter?"  
  
We stood up and I twined my arms around his neck.  
  
I could feel the heat of his palms on my hips, but the sand on my feet seemed to shift.  
  
We swayed slowly, the rolling waves in the background as our song.  
  
But we danced to the music of our hearts.

--

He loved to watch people, looking at them as if memorizing every detail.  
  
I saw his drawings.  
  
Lines, curves, and shadows forming a face.

Head tilted back, mouth arched up, and eyes twinkling.  
  
One sketch, then another.  
  
Long fingers tucked under my chin, curly lashes fanned my cheeks, full lips tilted up in a small smile, as if I had been dreaming.

--

It was a melody to my ears when he told me I was pretty.  
  
But doubt held me in its ruthless grip.  
  
"Come on. Please," he begged.  
  
"Tristan, no," I giggled.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
I looked at him hesitantly. "I just…I'm…"  
  
His eyes turned warm, "Rory, you don't have to be shy. You're beautiful," he whispered, caressing cheek. "Inside and out."  
  
Insecurity flew away with a fluttering of wings.

--

We bickered playfully.  
  
"You like Britney Spears?" I asked, in disgust.

"Yeah, why not? She's a good entertainer," he argued.  
  
I snorted. "If you think wearing a skimpy top that almost shows her breasts is what makes a good entertainer, you're crazier than Michael Jackson."  
  
"What? Jealous, Mary?"  
  
"No, just stating a fact."

--

We loved to watch the sun as it set, orange and purple painting the sky.  
  
I sat between his legs, his arms wrapped around me.  
  
He admitted he loved me. He had since we were sixteen.  
  
My heart skipped to the tunes of a lively piccolo.  
  
I knew it was too fast. But I knew I was starting to love him.  
  
I trusted him.  
  
We made a promise. A promise that we would see each other again.  
  
We said it was forever.  
  
We sealed it with a kiss. 

--

We wanted to drive around the beaches one last time.  
  
We were on the highway, the windows open.  
  
We were going so fast, the wind against my face.  
  
We were smiling. We were laughing.  
  
We didn't notice a truck in our lane.  
  
We heard a loud horn. 

--

I tried to open my eyes.  
  
I winced. My head hurt.  
  
I tried again.  
  
All I could see was darkness. Pitch black.  
  
I heard someone shuffle beside me. It was my mother.  
  
"I can't see anything," I said.  
  
She started to cry.  
  
Then I remembered Tristan.  
  
Where was he?  
  
I asked if my mother knew.  
  
He was safe.  
  
But why didn't he come to visit me? Why hadn't he ask for me?  
  
A feeling of despair started to form in the pit of my stomach. 

--

The doctor examined me.  
  
I was blind. It could be permanent.  
  
I needed a healthy pair of eyes.  
  
I tried to be strong. For me. For my mom.  
  
We didn't have to wait long. They found a donor who matched.  
  
I couldn't have been happier. I thought of Tristan. I hoped this allowed me to see him again. 

--

Fear warred with hope as the doctor slowly and carefully removed the bandages.  
  
I opened my eyes.  
  
I cried out at the brightness of the world.  
  
Everything was blurry at first, silhouettes were all I could see.  
  
Relief washed over me as my vision cleared.  
  
I saw the faces of everyone who mattered to me.  
  
All, except one. 

--

When I got out of the hospital, I asked about Tristan, but nobody would answer me.  
  
I went to his house, but he wasn't there.  
  
Did the summer mean nothing to him?  
  
We made a promise. I trusted him, believed him.  
  
I was wrong. He was exactly as he had been at Chilton 

--

Months passed.  
  
I tried to forget, but everything reminded me of Tristan.  
  
Long walks, snow cones, Hartford, Yale, music, books.  
  
Pictures turned old and yellow, flowers dried and wilted, and the pages of life were turned.  
  
I danced, I laughed, I sang, I smiled.  
  
But when darkness came, I lay in my bed, tucked under my old blanket.  
  
I stared at my ceiling. But I saw nothing.  
  
My mind wandered back to him.  
  
And then my sobs would drown the crickets' hum.  
  
One day, I received a brown envelope. When I looked inside, I found a sketch of me, laughing.  
  
The tears fell rapidly as I began to cry.

--

The DuGreys threw a party.  
  
I didn't want to attend, but I needed to let go.  
  
I was nervous. I was scared.  
  
I hoped to see him. I hoped I wouldn't.  
  
It was a huge house. It was a boring party.  
  
I started to wander.  
  
I crossed the garden, the scent of the flowers filling my senses.  
  
Suddenly, music reached my ears.  
  
It wasn't just music I was hearing. There was the sound of the beach, waves crashing and seagulls squalling.  
  
I followed the sounds to a bungalow.  
  
Slowly, I turned the knob, pushing the door open.  
  
My curiosity was piqued. I stepped inside.  
  
I gasped. My heart started to constrict in grief, but at the same time, I felt as if it was shattering into a thousand pieces.  
  
Agonizing anger consumed me.  
  
How dare he?  
  
He had no right.  
  
Tristan.  
  
He was holding a sketch of me, the drawing that revealed my dreams.  
  
A pair of sunglasses was perched on his nose, covering the hollows where his eyes used to be.

END

AN: I changed/ added/ deleted a few things. I would still like to give credit to _Kiss_ and their video. And I'd like to thank Crazy **Tayce** for beta-ing this fic and staying up until I don't know what time.


End file.
